"I'll admit I may have seen better days,
but I'm still not to be had for the price of a cocktail,
like a salted
peanut"(Margo Channing)

Sunday, 20 March 2016

Rewards

Sunday jobs for me, finish at around 1pm. The Prof has breakfast in bed, the dogs now have two walks ( a long march for Mary) and a shorted more sedate amble for the old guys. The field animals are fed, the Wreck of the Hesperus which is the kitchen is cleaned , the bed is made and the hoover is trundled out......then lunch is prepared.
Then I sit and read with a coffee.
This is my reward.
We all run on rewards me thinks
And I am getting better at the reward thing......not always using food as thanks for a job well completed.

Now my mother's reward when finishing the jobs of the day was gin. This never worked too well when her rewards were awarded a little too early in an afternoon.
That meant tea time was a sombre and rather quiet affair with mother asleep on the couch.

I think it's the order of the vintage crockery upon the gingam tablecloth on the side that made me recall this somewhat melancholy memory, a little stab of a sharp knife on an otherwise bright and light spring day.
Funny what you remember isnt it?

Oh yes, I totally understand the small sharp stabs under the sweet memories. * when I was young I lost my front teeth as all children do and my new ones were coming in crooked. my step dad looked at my photo taken at school and said right away- when are we doing something about those teeth. Not how cute I looked or anything sweet, just making me more aware of that crooked tooth.I held on to that hurt for many years.I let it go when I got my first modeling job.

I am rewarding myself at this moment with red wine and earlier today some reminiscing with my brother which we did over a council tax refund statement that arrived out of the blue for my mother. She has been dead 10 years.

Yes, that memory must hurt a bit ... and yes, it's sometimes unpredictable what will come to us from the past. Good for you for choosing a different reward. You would have been a good parent. No, you ARE a good one - fur children count as kids. Eternal kids.

My beloved once left a little card on my nightable to find when I woke up. In reference to something he didn't experienced apparently until we met. He in as much told me, even as a child he thought it was his destiny never to experienced a real sense of peace and love with those who were dear and near to him.

The card read "Love trumps Destiny". Those words have been my anchor when memories hurt at the most unexpected times. Hard to resolve things we didn't do or were responsible for yet still affect us today, isn't? May all your teas be filled with light and Scotch eggs.